All Roads Lead to Television

I haven't written about my dreams in a while. Last night I dreamt I was back in San Diego, walking east on Fletcher Parkway in La Mesa. I was on the south side of the street though I knew I needed to be on the north side. I was carrying a glass mug I'd stolen from the trolley station (where one does not usually find mugs). I found my path, and the path of every car in the street, was impeded by a new concrete parking garage. Cars had to turn around and go back the other way. I went inside and found an entrance to JC Penney and a little waiting room for the department store's optometrist or photo studio. There was an old CRT television, old enough to have a wooden exterior. It was showing new movies.

Last night I watched a bunch of old music videos. Wouldn't it be nice to have someone feel this way about you? Or about anything?

Twitter Sonnet #1700

Ahead of silver cars, a horse advanced.
Bereft of gas, the final car desists.
Across the road, a nervous critter danced.
Delicious dots in space for some exist.
For kings, the birds could bow and scrape the seeds.
Effacing spirits move the dial down.
Replacement fluff has choked rewarded deeds.
Upholstery broke from rotten feather down.
Mistaken arms mislead the leaden leg.
Extinguished tombs contain the beat of death.
Expensive glue repaired the ugly egg.
On iron hills there sounds a banshee breath.
Beneath the teeth of auto parts they fall.
Returns are cut behind a diesel wall.